


Young hearts, free

by Khalehla



Series: The adventures of Ju & Jo [1]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Backstory, Borussia Dortmund, Developing Relationship, FC Bayern München, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, German National Team, Germany U19s - Freeform, Germany U21s - Freeform, Götzeus mentions, M/M, Mild Smut, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Schweinski mentions, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-10-13
Packaged: 2018-07-11 22:02:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7072231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khalehla/pseuds/Khalehla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A look into the relationship of Julian Weigl and Joshua Kimmich through the years.</p><p>[story now complete]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A matter of timing

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone who has managed to fall in love with Ju & Jo over the last few months, and especially to **revving_riffs** who first introduced me to them.

**Dec 2011**

The first time they meet, it’s just an instance. Someone in different colours, just as young, just as impressionable, just as determined to prove themselves even while only playing for their club’s U17. Joshua can’t remember much from the game anymore, it was so long ago, but he does remember the feeling of elation as he made the assist and they win the match. He’ll also remember the tall lanky boy who played opposite him in midfield who shook his hand shyly.

**May 2012**

They win the return leg by a single goal, and it’s a sweet victory because they’re 2nd in the table and it’s a good place to be, but Joshua notices the sadness mingled with the shyness when they shake hands.

“Good game,” the taller boy says, smile friendly but tired.

He doesn’t know why he does it, but he blurts out, “I’m Joshua.” His name is on the team sheet, so anyone could have found out.

“Julian.” The smile is bigger now and Joshua tries to ignore the slight flutter in his stomach.

He doesn’t know what to tell Timo when the striker asks him why he is in such a good mood on the way back to Stuttgart.

**Nov 2013**

It takes 18 months and call-up to the U19 national team before they see each other again, and this time, they are on the same team.

There’s a certain amount of giddiness to representing one’s country, and even if he’d already played for Germany in the other youth ages before, he always approached each call-up with the same level of excitement. That also meant he went out of his way to try to be as welcoming to the first timers – he knew how terrifying it could be.

“Julian!” He exclaims, giving the surprised man (not a boy anymore) a hug, laughing at the look of confusion on his face. “You’ve forgotten me already!”

Julian gets a panicked look on his face momentarily, then his eyes widen a little. “Joshua?” he asks tentatively.

Joshua grins. “Welcome to the national team!”

They become friends after that, figuring out over successive late night chats that Joshua hadn’t been on the teamsheet for both their U19s games against each other (“what type of crazy coincidence is that?”), and talking about the first few months of the season for their new clubs.

It’s an eventful game for them both, Joshua scoring and Julian being sent off with a red. Despite winning the game in the end, Julian goes missing halfway through the celebrations.

“There you are,” Joshua says softly, walking slowly up to where Julian is sitting in a dark corner of the balcony.

“Hey Jo,” Julian smiles, “why aren’t you celebrating with the others?”

“Why aren’t you?” Joshua asks, taking a seat next to him. When Julian doesn’t respond, just looks away in the distance, he sighs. “Come on, Ju, a red card isn’t the end of the world.”

“Probably unnecessary, though.”

“It’s only a friendly, you’ll still play for the other qualifications.”

“That’s if Sorg calls me up,” Julian says wryly. “It’s not really a good impression, getting a red on your first call up.”

Joshua puts an arm around the taller man, pulling him gently closer. “You will,” he whispers, a promise they both know he has no power to make.

They stay close for the rest of the break, and though he doesn’t play the next game, Julian is the first to comfort Joshua after the game.

“We were down 2-nil in 17 minutes, but we still managed to come back for a draw,” Julian points out, “you guys did amazing – so stop fretting. You played well.”

Joshua just smiles into the other midfielder’s chest, and if he clings on tighter and longer than necessary, they don’t mention it.

It’s only natural that they trade numbers after that, and Julian is on his list of people to send Christmas greetings to. They end up texting regularly from then on, followed soon after by weekly calls, and Joshua gets to know the tall boy from Munich better and faster than some of the boys he went to academy training with. It surprises him, and maybe scares him a little – he’s never gotten so attached so quickly to anyone before.

**Early 2014**

He gets injured after the season re-starts, and it’s only 4 days he’s out, but he spends the entire time sulking – it’s his first major injury after all. Julian learns very quickly just how close-mouthed he can get when he’s upset, so counters his mood by talking about inane things – pranks at their club, what their hopes are for Brazil, Game of Thrones, whether they think they will get called up for the U19s Euro championships – and Joshua falls in love a little then. He’s realised that in the very short time they’d really known each other, Julian somehow made it to the very short list of people he trusted implicitly, and it terrifies him.

It terrifies him even more when he gets a suspension in March and Julian responds to his text by sending one that has nothing by “silly boy” and a winking emoji. It’s the wink that does it – it’s the first time Julian has ever used it and Joshua thinks that the other midfielder may be flirting with him. He’s not sure though, so he doesn’t bring it up (but he _does_ hope).

**Mid-2014**

Getting called up for national team duty takes on new meaning when he knows that there’s a chance that Julian could get called up now too, and when he sees the other midfielder’s name in the roster, Joshua can’t help the triumphant fist pump (he’s in his room so there’s no witness to his moment of weakness). They practically throw themselves at each other when they meet at the team hotel, ignoring the amused eye-rolls their teammates give them.

It’s a good break and despite losing their first match, they qualify for the championships. There’s a lot of celebrating going on, and Joshua takes the opportunity to get in as many hugs as he possible can, leaning into the taller man when they’re both laughing at something that Niklas has said, high on adrenaline and emotions and possibly falling in love a little bit more as Julian’s laughter fills the air. It takes him by surprise when the lanky midfielder presses a kiss to his temple by way of good bye the next day, and for the first time since they met, he’s at a loss for words.

Joshua’s plans for maybe telling Julian how he feels during the championships gets derailed when the Munich man doesn’t get called up, and even the high of the senior team winning in Brazil can’t completely make up for it; the phone calls only lesson the absence slightly.

“I wish you were here,” he admits after the draw with Serbia and he gets a yellow card. “I don’t feel so stupid when you’re around to talk sense into me.”

“It’s only a yellow, Jo,” Julian says gently, “it’s not the end of the world.”

Joshua smiles at the reminder of his words after their first call-up together, and his mood soars. “No-one can believe Max isn’t here either, but we’re doing okay. I have a good feeling. We all want to win it – especially now that the seniors have won Brazil.”

“Hell yeah!” Julian agrees, “I know you guys can do it. I believe in you all.”

“Even me?”

“Especially you.”

By then Joshua knows he’s completely in love.

They go through the next two games like a team on a mission, keeping clean sheets and making a statement of intent by their 4:0 win against Austria in the semis. It isn’t quite the 7-1 annihilation of Brazil that their seniors managed less than a month ago, but they go into the finals as favourites, and the win is the crowning glory of his life so far.

“God, I wish you were here,” Joshua breathes, edgy with adrenaline and skin still buzzing with excitement.

“I’ll see you next league game,” Julian reminds him, “we play on the tenth, remember?”

“I don’t know if I can wait that long to see you,” he admits, honestly, recklessly, but he knows it’s worth it when Julian laughs in response.

“You think you can stay back after the game?” Julian asks. “Maybe we can go for drinks afterwards.”

“Probably not, but I’ll see what I can do.”

There’s no way in hell he’d be allowed time out after their game, so Joshua contrives to wander the corridors instead, trying to catch the Munich captain before they have to get on the team bus.

Julian meets him in an empty room, and they stare at each other for a few seconds.

“Good game,” the taller man says, breaking the silence.

“I’m sorry, but I really, really have to do this.” And before Julian can process his words, Joshua steps into his space, going up on his tiptoes in order to kiss him.

Julian’s surprise only lasts a second, then Joshua feels steadying hands on his hips as the taller man leans into the kiss, giving as good as he gets, as his own hand makes its way up Julian’s arm until it rests on the captain’s armband.

“Took you long enough,” Julian says as they catch their breaths, “I was wondering how much more blatant I had to be before you finally figured out that I like you.”

Joshua laughs in surprise. “You weren’t being obvious enough,” he protests, “I’ve been wanting to do that since the qualifiers.”

“How much more obvious did you want me to be? It’s not like I go around kissing everyone on the national team and sending text messages with winking emojis and hearts to all my teammates!”

Joshua cuts off the mock-indignation with another kiss. “In case you haven’t figured out by now, I really really like you, too.”

“I certainly hope so,” Julian laughs, “or else all those months of flirting would have been for nothing.”

Joshua is about to respond when they hear voices outside the room, reality cutting through, and he sighs. “I have to go, but I’ll call you when I get home?”

“You better!”

There’s one more quick kiss before they carefully exit the room and Joshua joins the rest of his teammates. There’s questions on where he was and why he’s blushing, but he doesn’t care, too happy to let the teasing get to him. There’s U21 qualifications before they meet again at the next league game, and Joshua is hoping and praying they both get called up, but in the meantime, he has a job to do, and well, even though Leipzig and Munich are 4 hours drive away, they’ll find a way, he knows they will.

"I miss you already" he sends without thinking. His response text only contains a kissing emoji and a heart – he doesn’t think even winning the Euros felt this good.


	2. It all gets a little bit emotional

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during the summer of 2015 where Julian goes to the U20s World Cup in New Zealand (they lose 3-4 on penalties to Mali in the QF), and Joshua represents the U21s in the Euros (they lose 5-0 to Portugal in the SF)
> 
> [more research notes at the end of the chapter]

There is nothing worse than a penalty shootout.

It’s what goes over and over in Julian’s mind as each of his teammates take the spot, and each player from Mali takes a spot, and as each ball flies into the back of the net. When he was younger, he’d heard all the clichés about how Germans were the penalty kick kings, how Germany never lost a penalty shootout on the international stage, how you’d have to _beat_ a German team to advance to the next level because you couldn’t take the chance of coming up against them if it went to penalties, because well, have you seen Germany’s record?

Which is rather unfortunate that no-one bothered to tell the U20s that.

The helplessness nearly cripples him when Niklas' shot goes wide, and just like his teammates, Julian falls to his knees, the feeling of defeat coming over him.

 _It shouldn’t have been like this_ , he thinks, completely numb. _We played well. We should have won; we are Germany – we don’t lose on penalties_.

But it's a mantra that's more an accusation now, and he only just manages to pick himself up in order to console Julian Brandt and the rest of his teammates. It’s not like the played badly, or that Mali had played exceptionally well, but they just couldn’t get the ball into the back of the net and in the end, it just wasn’t their night. No-one blames them, of course – they still did well, but the conciliatory remarks fall dead to the ground not even half a second after they leave the coach’s mouth, and in the end they get dismissed because it’s the less painful thing to do.

Julian sits on his bed, waiting for the other Julian to arrive, when the text comes in. He doesn’t know how to respond to Joshua’s text, because right now all he wants to do is forget. It’d been so long since they’d seen each other – they hadn’t been called up to the national team together since that game against Spain a year ago, and he’s come to start missing Joshua so badly.

The other midfielder is away as well with the national team, with the U21s this time, and they’re literally about to start the tournament they’re widely expected to win in three days time, so Julian doesn’t want to dampen Joshua’s mood, but he needs the comfort of Joshua’s voice, if not his presence, so he decides to call instead.

“Ju,” Joshua says simply, and the gentleness in the older boy’s voice undoes him. “I’m proud of you.”

“We lost, Jo,” Julian sighs.

“But you guys gave everything, that’s the only thing we can ask for.”

“It still wasn’t enough,” Julian sniffles.

“Oh love…”

The endearment catches Julian by surprise, and for a moment a burst of warmth hits him, making him smile. It’s bittersweet because his affection for Joshua is such a comfort to him, but it makes him miss the other midfielder even more. “I’ll be okay,” he says softly. “Just. Just win this one, okay? Win it for us too.”

“We’ll definitely try,” Joshua says, “I have a team meeting, but call you later?”

“It’s middle of the fucking night in New Zealand,” Julian laughs, “I probably won’t pick up. But I’ll watch your games, okay? I’ll be cheering for all of you guys.”

“I’ll text you when I can,” Joshua promises before they hang up, “and call when you get back to Germany, okay?”

Julian does end up watching all the games, and he’s happy really, that the U21s are doing as expected and marching through the tournament, and it’s not perfect, but they’re performing and its going to plan; until the semi-finals. Then it all just falls apart.

By the time Leonardo gets sent off in the 75th minute they’re already 5-0 down and the body language of all players – from Marc-André to ( _World Cup winner!_ ) Matze to Kevin – every one of them has defeat resting heavily on their shoulders. When the final whistle blows, Julian’s eyes tear up at how dejected his teammates look, and he sends a text to Joshua, hoping the other midfielder doesn’t beat himself up about the loss.

 _I’m so proud of you_ , is all it says, and Julian hopes Joshua understands the meaning of it.

Joshua doesn’t reply, calls instead, asking Julian to be there when they get back to Germany. “My parents are staying for a few more days – they expected us to win so that they could have an excuse to go on holiday. Can you come? I want to see you?”

Julian doesn’t hesitate, agreeing immediately. He needed this too.

The drive is long and boring and he's got the music blasting as loud as possible without it distracting from his driving, but it's what he needs, because by the time he gets to Leipzig, Julian is incapable of feeling anything other than the dull ache that's been with him since the last night in New Zealand.

"Hey," Joshua says when he opens the door, and Julian thinks he looks too pale and angry and miserable.

"Hey," Julian says in return, pulling Joshua momentarily to him before they make their way to the living room.

He's never been before, and a part of him feels weird that it's just them, at Joshua's house, with no-one else around, but the other part doesn’t care because he really isn't capable of censoring his emotions right now.

"Want a drink?" Joshua asks, holding out a beer.

"God, yes." Julian was very much willing to get wasted if that was the plan. "You started without me?"

"Just one, I only just got back. I've ordered pizza, it should be here soon."

They make their way to the living room, both too quiet, too dejected, and he can feel the waves of misery coming off Joshua as they sit side by side.

“You okay?” Julian asks after a minute of awkward silence.

Joshua looks startled, then smiles at him. “Not really,” he admits, “I know we can’t win everything, but we all thought – we _felt_ it – we could win, but we didn’t, and I don’t know how to handle it.”

“I know what you mean,” Julian says, and he doesn’t want to compare because they are both equally depressed about losing, but he realises that the U21s had a lot more pressure on them to continue what the seniors had started, that they were practically _expected_ to take the trophy home, and he understands, he really does. “But, not your fault, okay? We’ll bounce back.”

Joshua leans into the arm that Julian’s got draped around the shorter boy’s shoulders, and for a few minutes, they sit there in more peaceful silence until the food comes.

Thirty-five minutes, two empty pizza boxes and 6 empty beer bottles later, they’re decidedly more maudlin and not just a little bit tipsy. Despite their best efforts, they’d not managed to shake the sadness from their recent losses, and it’s inevitably what they go back to over and over again.

“We lost on penalties, Jo – fucking penalties!” Julian takes another angry drink and wipes at his mouth with his sleeve when some of the beer leaks out when he tips the bottle too quickly. “Do you know how often the senior team loses on penalties? Probably, never! And we lost to Mali! I mean (hiccup) no offence to Mali, but they’re not exactly Spain or the Netherlands, right?”

“Well, we lost 5-0,” Joshua says, trying to outdo Julian in the tragedy of their losses. “Not that it was all Marc-André’s fault, I mean, our defence was pretty shit – I have no idea what we were doing half the time – but fuck, man! Who loses that badly?”

“Brazil against Germany in the last World Cup?” Julian reminded him

“Yeah,” Joshua concedes, “but still. Fucking 5-0.”

“Niklas started crying.”

“Bernd punched our bathroom wall.”

“Julian didn’t come back to our rooms until just before breakfast.”

“Mo and Leo went missing – I think they went to a bar to get drunk.”

“We really shouldn’t be getting all depressed like this,” Julian says, putting the now empty beer bottle away and wondering how he had managed to drink so much – he wasn’t normally like this.

Joshua blinks at him, gaze slightly out of focus. “I know, I’m sorry – it just still hurts. I’ll get over it, I promise, just not today… Sorry.”

Julian pulls the sniffling Joshua to him, wrapping his arms around his waist and nuzzling into the older boy’s shoulder. “Hey, don’t apologise, you’re allowed to be sad, okay?”

“I’m not as sad when I’m with you,” Joshua says softly, turning his head slightly so that their lips are nearly touching. “Thank you for being awesome.”

“Right back at you.” Julian leans in to brush their lips together ever so slightly. “We’ll bounce back, okay? We can’t do anything about it anymore, we gotta move on. We’re starting with our new clubs soon.”

This makes Joshua laugh a little. “I can’t believe when I’m finally moving to Munich to be close to you, you’re leaving me to go to the other side of the country!”

“You’re going to _Bayern_ , Jo,” Julian points out, “that was my club’s arch-enemy. We wouldn’t even be playing in the same league!”

“And now we’re rivals even more because you’re playing for Bayern’s arch enemy and I think it’s in my contract to hate you.”

“I know what you mean, but seriously, we can stay out of it, right? We don’t need to hate each other?”

Joshua pulls away from Julian just a little so that they are face to face. “Do you really think I’d hate you just because we play for rival teams?” he asks, incredulous. “Are you _daft?_ I _love_ you – why would I hate you just because of _football?_ ”

Julian can’t say anything, he’s just gaping at Joshua’s words – words that the other midfielder probably didn’t even know he uttered – and Julian doesn’t know what to say, what to think, because it’s just too sudden, too raw, and it’s suddenly too much. Instead of responding, he pulls Joshua to him by his neck, kissing him fiercely, and Joshua responds by pressing in and meeting him kiss for kiss. “Of course we won’t hate each other,” he whispers when they break for air. “I couldn’t handle it if you hated me.”

“Me neither,” Joshua agrees, drawing in for another kiss.

He doesn’t even know how it starts, but one minute they're comforting each other, the next minute there's some really intense making out and heavy petting going on and Julian has absolutely no control over his actions anymore. He doesn't think he had drank enough for the alcohol to affect him to the point where his brain has pretty much shut down and he's letting lust take over him, but it's _Joshua_ , and he's so far gone for him already that it's not such a big step to go from kissing to touching to grinding against each other.

"Oh fuck!" Julian gasps, as he lands on his back, Joshua pressed heavily against him.

"What?" The other midfielder pulls away momentarily, confused, panting and utterly adorable. "What's wrong?"

Julian just reaches underneath him to pull out his wallet from his back pocket and throw it onto the table. "Nothing's wrong," he says, "well, not with me, anyway."

"Good," Joshua says, and they commence where the left off, mouths hungry, hands roaming, and it's so incredibly hot and exciting and perfect.

"Fuck!" Joshua exclaims when Julian rolls them over and they crash against the coffee table.

"Sorry, sorry!" Julian mutters, placing short quick kisses on the other boy’s neck, cheeks, eyes. He can’t stop touching, kissing, coming back to Joshua’s mouth time and time again, and when he feels the other boy’s hand climb under his shirt, he doesn’t hesitate to rip it off.

They’re rolling on the carpet, kissing, nipping, mouthing against skin that is becoming more exposed as clothing is tossed haphazardly to the corners of the living room. And then they’re naked and rutting against each other; and with every little bump of their hips, every time their cocks slide together in delicious friction, Julian thinks he wants to die from pleasure, could possibly drown in the sensation of having Joshua so close that he wants to absorb the other boy into his skin. When he comes, it takes him completely by surprise, and he cries out from the suddenness of it, his world going white, then black. When he finally comes down from his high, he’s only vaguely aware that Joshua has stopped moving against him in order to finish himself off with his hands, and Julian reaches down as well, wrapping his hand around Joshua’s so that the last few strokes are theirs and he feels the warmth of Joshua spilling on his fingertips.

It should be gross, and any other time he would most definitely shrink back from the messiness of it all, but right now all he can feel is how right everything is, and that first time sex with Joshua may very well end up being one of the best moments of his life. His one hand is still trapped between them, and they should do something about cleaning up, but he wraps his free hand around Joshua instead, occasionally rubbing the other boy’s back, enjoying Joshua’s weight on him and Joshua’s light breath against his neck.

Later, when the other midfielder finally pushes himself up, Julian doesn’t move, watching Joshua from under his lashes, enjoying how wrecked, how sated Joshua looks, knowing he himself probably looks exactly the same.

For a few moments, they just look at each other shyly, until Joshua blurts out, “well, that happened.”

Julian laughs because yeah, it _did_ happen, and it was awesome and he’d so do it again if Joshua was up for it. “It sure did,” he says, looking around for the closest thing to wipe them down with. He settles for the tissues that came with the pizza. “You don’t regret it, do you?”

“Hell no,” Joshua says, taking some more tissues and wiping Julian’s torso down, making him squirm. “You look like you’re thinking though.”

“Not about regrets,” Julian says, sitting up and throwing the tissues with the rest of the rubbish. “More like how I’d rather not get anymore carpet burn if possible.”

Joshua laughs in surprise. “Does that mean I shouldn’t get my hopes up for round two?”

“No, it means when round two happens, it better not be on your living room floor again because my back can’t deal with it anymore.”

“Seriously?” Joshua asks, laughing some more when Julian turns to show the redness on his back.

“Kissing it better isn’t a long term solution to that,” Julian points out, voice hitching when he feels lips on his slightly raw skin.

“It’s a good thing my bedsheets are nice and soft, then,” Joshua chuckles against his back, tongue flicking out playfully.

“I think I need to see for myself if that’s true,” Julian gasps, eyes fluttering close.

“What are we waiting for then?”

Julian ends up testing the softness of Joshua’s bedsheet well into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Julian didn't actually finish the game against Mali because he was subbed off after a nasty concussion. I won't post the distressing photos, but Julian _did_ post an "I'm okay" message on Insta [here.](https://www.instagram.com/p/38radyk7oE/)


	3. Conflicts and interests

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after the Dortmund 0-0 Bayern game on matchday 25 (March 2016)

He’s only just managing to keep himself together when he heads down the tunnel, and it’s all Joshua can do to not push people away, the concerned looks some of his teammates and the staff giving him making him uncharacteristically irritable.

He’ trying not to take it to heart; it had been a good game, a hard-fought draw, and he knows that everybody agrees that had either side scored and won, no-one would have begrudged the result. The fact that he got singled out after the game isn’t something he enjoyed, but he’d been with Bayern long enough to know that that’s just how the coach operated, and it wasn’t personal - hell, with Pep, _nothing_ was personal unless you were one of his favourites, and Joshua knew he barely made it onto the coach’s radar on a regular basis, let alone be familiar enough to be in the rarified circle that Philipp and Robert inhabited.

That doesn’t mean, though, that it doesn’t hurt - he’s only human after all - and all Joshua wanted to do was indulge in a little escapism, even if it was just for 10 minutes, so he surreptitiously looks around to see if Julian had made it down the tunnel yet, only to regret it immediately when he sees _his boyfriend_ clutching Erik - the _beautiful_ Erik Durm - to him by the face and practically kissing him on the pitch. It makes Joshua’s stomach churn in jealousy, so he heads towards the showers without a second backward look.

He almost doesn’t respond when he gets the text from Julian letting him know in what direction to head to and what room to knock on, because although that little moment with Erik made him want to hurl, he’s missed Julian so damn much that he’s willing to just push the inappropriateness of it all to the side if it meant some alone time after nearly two months of not seeing each other.

He’s not even sure where he’s going, and he bumps into Mario as his teammate hurries out and heads towards the home team’s change room, and Joshua thinks _oh, of course_. He’s wide-eyed in realisation and doesn’t want to be caught staring, but then Julian comes around the corner and tips his head towards an empty room.

As soon as the door closes behind them, Julian pulls him roughly close, then pushes back to peer at him. “Are you alright?” the other midfielder asks, all concern.

“Yeah,” Joshua says slowly, “why wouldn’t I be?”

“It’s just, I saw Guardiola yelling at you, and the boys who were close enough were saying-”

Joshua cuts him off, because he really didn’t want to be discussing that, not right now. “It’s nothing. He wasn’t yelling at me.”

“Really?” Julian asks skeptically. “Because that’s not how it looked. And the boys were saying-”

“Who are you going to believe?” he cuts in, again, already seriously done with this topic. “I was there, remember?”

“Jo, I’m just worried,” Julian says, stepping back, confused at Joshua’s reaction. “He was _yelling_ at you - what the fuck _for?_ You had a good game.”

“You don’t understand, it’s not what you think,” Joshua says, trying to keep his voice neutral. “He doesn’t mean anything by it.”

“Yeah? That’s not what I saw. Why are you trying to cover for him? I can tell how upset you are!”

Joshua’s already frayed emotions have just about had it, and the fact that Julian keeps pushing and prodding at something he just wants to move past already makes him lash out. “You mean you noticed all that while you and Erik were having your moment? I’m surprised you saw anything considering you were practically sucking face with him.”

The words come out bitter, and even as he hears himself say them, a part of Joshua knows he will regret it later on, but at this exact moment, he actually doesn’t care, and even Julian’s confused and hurt expression isn’t enough to make him want to apologise.

“What are you talking about?” Julian asks, stepping back from him some more, his face pinched. “What does Erik have to do with anything?”

“Nothing,” Joshua snaps. “Just like coach has nothing to do with it.”

They stare at each other for a few seconds, both breathing deeply in order to keep their tempers from flaring even more, both incredibly tense.

“I’m trying to understand why your coach would deliberately humiliate you like that because there is no way in hell you deserve it - but you’re acting like _I’m_ the one in the wrong here,” Julian says eventually through clenched teeth and clenched fists. “Is this the type of ‘loyalty’ Bayern are demanding from you?”

It’s Joshua’s turn to clench his fists in frustration now; if anyone had told him a year ago that he’d come to a stage where he’d be happy to slam the door in his boyfriend’s face without so much as a ‘piss off’, Joshua would probably punch _them_ in the face - but right now, he’s tempted to do just that.

“Don’t drag my club into this when you know it’s not about them,” he says, barely containing his anger.

“Yeah? Then what is it about then?”

“That you’re treating me like a child! Like I can’t stand up for myself when I need to! Jesus, Ju, you’re not my mom - stop trying to coddle me!”

“What the fuck?” Julian demands. “Why are you acting like this?”

“Acting like what? I’m just reminding you that I’m an adult and you can stop treating me like a kid!”

They step back far away from each other, staring, breathing some more. It’s such a new experience, being so fucking annoyed at Julian, and Joshua doesn’t know how to deal with it.

“Is that what you think I’m doing?” the Dortmund midfielder asks in disbelief. “How can you say that?”

“How can I not?” Joshua retorts. “You should hear yourself!”

For about a minute Julian opens and closes his mouth, trying to come up with something to say, but they’re both annoyed, too bad-tempered to be rational about this truly irrational fight, so when Joshua gets a text asking where he is, he just mumbles an “I gotta go to the bus” and leaves without saying goodbye properly. Julian doesn't try to stop him.

The bus trip back to Munich is surprisingly sedate, most of the players tired, but in a satisfied sort of way, and Joshua spends the time sulking quietly on his own. Thomas and Manuel give him worried looks, but he tries to give them his best (fake) smile that fools no-one. He’s angry, and hurt still, and just a little bit worried that such a minor disagreement - because that’s what it was - had blown up so quickly in their faces, and he’s not really sure whether he should be texting Julian to apologise.

He doesn’t, in the end, because he had needed comfort from his _boyfriend_ and all he got was nagging and a lack of understanding on why the thing with the coach was not a big deal - it had really shit him that Julian had acted like he had let himself be treated like an abused factory worker and that he didn’t have the wherewithal to stand up for himself if needed to. Why couldn’t Julian understand that he was _fine?_ No. It had really hurt that the other midfielder had such a low opinion of his ability to look out for himself, despite the fact that they had been playing football for the same amount of time.

Joshua gets home angry, does his laundry and other chores angry, then goes to bed angry. He doesn’t check if he’s had any missed calls or texts, but if he did (and really, he didn’t) he would have noticed that there were no notifications on his phone.

The next day he’s suitably miserable. Around evening he gets a bunch of texts of Julian, and the anger and helplessness of the game has bled out of him sufficiently enough that he starts to feel the guilt set it.

 

> _I don't know what I did but I'm pretty sure I didn't do anything to make you act like such a dick_
> 
> _I'm still angry at you but call me when you're ready to talk_
> 
> _I don't really wanna hear you talking about eric though coz there's nothing to talk about_
> 
> _*Erik_
> 
> _If you're jealous, then you're an idiot. I wasn't sucking face with him and you know it_
> 
> _You're the only person I suck face with anyway_

Joshua laughs at the last text, feels guilty some more, then promptly waits another 24 hours before getting the courage to call Julian.

“Do you know what time it is?” Julian asks when he picks up the phone, making him stare at his screen in confusion.

“8.30?” he says, tentatively.

“Yes, and Game of Thrones is on - you have the worse timing.”

Joshua is so unsure of whether Julian is still angry enough at him to actually be serious that he offers to call back later.

Julian just sighs. “I’m kidding, Jo. I was trying to make you laugh.”

“Erm… okay?”

Julian sighs again. “I’m glad you called.”

“Are you?”

“Yes, I’m not as angry anymore.”

“Me too,” Joshua says. “I mean, I’m glad I called and I’m not as angry anymore.”

“Like you had a reason to be,” Julian snorts. “Are you going to tell my why you were being such a dick?”

Joshua pauses for the longest time, thinking that that was a bit unfair, but still trying to figure out how to explain his reasons without sounding like a brat. “It wasn’t a good night for me,” he eventually admits, and hopes the other midfielder doesn’t need him to explain further.

“And you so you thought you’d take it out on me?”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” Joshua says, taking Julian’s sarcasm because he knows he kinda deserves it.

“Well trust me, it was a shitty idea. I love you, but don’t use me as a punching bag just because you have a shitty coach.”

“I’m sorry okay?” Joshua says, trying to sound genuinely contrite but also trying to stamp down on his temper again with the mention of Pep. “I admit I was being a dick, but can you at least believe me when I said it wasn’t about coach?”

Which is only partially a lie, really. Yes, getting yelled at by your coach - albeit in an apparently helpful way - wasn’t the best ending to a game that he thought he played well in. The whole Erik thing? That was pretty incidental and not worth bringing up (because he doesn’t want to look like an jealous prick). He’s not gonna mention missing him, either, because that would just sound really weak after everything - despite the fact it really _was_ the main reason why he’d lashed out for no apparent reason.

Julian snorts again, and this time, it’s all Joshua can do to not snark back. “Everything was fine until your beloved coach decided to yell at you in front of the entire fucking stadium,” the Dortmund midfielder says. “I can’t believe you’re _still_ sticking up for him.”

“I’m not!” Joshua says, voice rising. “I already told you, it’s not how it looks - he’s just like that. If you’d bothered to believe me - your _boyfriend_ , by the way - it wouldn’t have been an issue! God, why can’t you just trust me!”

“I do trust you,” Julian says, sounding confused now. “What does this have to do with trust? Besides, I’m not the one who accused you of practically making out with someone else!”

Joshua chooses to ignore the last comment, and says “of course it’s about trust! You don’t trust that I can look after myself - that’s why you’re treating me like a child! I just wish you’d treat me like an adult!”

There’s a tense pause, before Julian responds. “Jo, I don’t think you’re a child; I know you can take care of yourself. I’m just worried. I didn’t like how you were being treated.”

Joshua lets out a frustrated huff. “And how many times do I have to say that it’s not how it looked? Fuck! What’s it gonna take for you to believe me?!”

“I do believe you, I just-”

“No you don’t!” he cuts Julian off. “Because if you did, we wouldn’t be going over this again. For fuck’s sake, I’m done with this whole Pep thing already, Ju!”

“Jo, I-”

“I have to go,” Joshua says, cutting the Dortmunder off again. He’s too tired for this; and as much as he really missed Julian, talking to him right now is hurting more than helping. “I’m sorry. Go back to Game of Thrones. I’ll talk to you later.”

He hangs up when Julian utters a soft “okay”, throwing his phone across the room at the other sofa and burying his head in his hands, already regretting not having said good night. If Julian didn’t talk to him for a whole month, Joshua thinks he would really deserve it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that "sucking face" comment? happens here:
> 
> Which is actually the Darmstadt-BVB game that happened three days earlier on match day 24. Ju congratulates Erik for scoring the 2nd goal. I debated long and hard whether I should make the "moment" a separate one that Jo mentions as an add-on issue, or to incorporate it into the day's events - and having everything happen all in one day won out just because of the conflict. Poor Jo. And poor Ju. At least they _talked_ , in the end. Kinda


	4. Anticipations

Two months, Julian decides, is a very long time to not talk to someone; especially if that someone happened to be your significant other. It’s not that he and Joshua hadn’t talked since their last (and first!) major argument - yes, the one that happened two months ago after the Dortmund-Bayern game - because they  _ had _ , but not  _ talked _ -talked.

After a week of silence (and running out of things to watch and catch up on) he had finally relented and called Joshua. The Bayern boy had sounded cautious on the phone, and Julian had swallowed the annoyance and had kept talking as though the argument had never happened. In hindsight, not addressing the fight was probably a bad idea, but at the time, he just wanted them to stop being angry and when Joshua had fallen into his plan of Wilful Avoidance of the Problem ™, he’d happily gone along with it. The call ended up being a stilted, tense 13.5 minute conversation, but they were talking, and Joshua had called him three days later, so Julian counted it as a win.

A win which grew more awkward because not even when they had first started to get to know each other had they been so excruciatingly polite and eager to please and it felt so unnatural that Julian would find himself relieved once they hung up from the calls. Julian had missed Joshua’s playfulness, and even though they still had the rest of the season to play, he started seriously giving thought to asking for a day off to fly down to Munich just so they could finally fix things properly.

The thing was, he didn’t know why they couldn’t just talk things over the phone, but he understood that it was important enough that to keep going as they were now would probably lead to a slow and painful death of their relationship, and well, he was so completely invested in them that he was never gonna be happy about  _ that _ happening. 

For all his best intentions, however, it took being called up to preliminary squad for the France Euros to make Julian finally get his act together.

The call from the coach, the incredible knowledge that he’d be playing for the senior team - yes, so it was only the preliminary squad, but  _ still! _ \- the chance to be with Joshua and training together for one whole month at least, made him absolutely giddy with joy. Okay, he didn’t know if Joshua was even named in the squad with him, but he  _ hoped _ , and needed to believe, because injury aside, Joshua had been impressing all and sundry, especially the later part of the season and deserved it as well. So without thinking, he called the Bayern midfielder as soon as he finished his last gushing “thank you”, trying not squeal in excitement when he picked up the phone.

“I was just about to call you,” Joshua said.

“Really? What for?” Julian had his fingers crossed, silently chanting  _ ‘please be going please be going please be going’ _ in his head.

Julian could hear Joshua taking a deep breath. “I just got a call from Thomas Schneider - you know, the assistant coach from the senior team? I mean, you know who he is, sorry. Shit. Okay. So, um, I got called to the senior team…”

Julian, to his horror, let out a suppressed whimper - his relief and excitement coming out like the sound of a constipated balloon. “Me too!” he squeaked, face flushing in embarrassment even though Joshua couldn’t see him.

“Oh my god,” Joshua breathed, “I can’t believe we’re going to be training with the senior team!”

“I know, right?” Julian laughed almost in disbelief. “I know it’s just the preliminaries and we’ll probably get cut, but  _ still _ .”

“Well, that’s not very optimistic,” Joshua said, and Julian could hear the initial excitement slowly bleed from the Bayern midfielder’s voice. “We’ve been given a chance to prove ourselves to Jogi and the others and you’ve already assumed we’re going to get cut; that’s not very confidence-building, Ju.”

Julian had wanted to bang his head against a wall. Seriously, how did a reason for celebration manage to turn into a misunderstanding already? 

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. I’m just trying to be realistic.”

“Well, I really want to prove myself so that I  _ don’t _ get cut.”

“Jo, stop deliberately misinterpreting my words,” Julian sighed, tired all of a sudden. “I know you’ll give everything you can and you probably won’t get cut - I believe in you. Can we just move past this now?”

The tension in the silence was so thick that when Joshua finally mumbled an “okay”, the urge to bang his head on something hard had getting stronger by the second. And to think, he thought they were finally getting better.

“I just wanted to share my good news because you know, you’re important to me. And congratulations - I’m really proud of you. I know you’ll make it to France - Jogi would have to be blind not to see how good you are.” It was such a cliche, cookie cutter response that Julian rolled his eyes at himself, but hey, anything to stop another petty argument from happening. “So, um, I better call my parents and let them know.”

“Yeah, I should too,” Joshua said, and Julian tried not to feel too bitter about how relieved his boyfriend sounded about getting off the phone with him. “And um, congratulations, I’m proud of you too.”

Julian mumbled his thanks before hanging up, breathing for a minute to bring his irritation down before finally making his call. The rest of the season didn’t look like it was going to get any better if Joshua was going to keep getting defensive like this.

Dortmund didn’t manage to chase Bayern for the league title, and Julian tried not to feel too disappointed, because it was a difficult challenge at best, and realistically, the likelihood of it happening was just too low. The loss to Liverpool at the second leg of the Europa quarterfinals was soul-crushing compared to not quite doing enough to win the league, and Julian just wanted to concentrate on the Pokal final coming up. They could win the cup, he knew, because Dortmund had the ability to go toe-to-toe with Bayern, and he knew how determined everyone was to get their hands on silverware. 

If he was being honest with himself, Julian also knew he was looking forward to the Pokal also because he and Joshua could finally see each other again.

So here he is now, standing in the tunnel, trying not to fidget, and he seriously wants to kick himself. He  _ never _ got pre-game jitters anymore, and he doesn’t want to really believe that the reason for this nervousness is all down to Joshua, because dammit, he was a _ professional _ , he could keep his emotions in check until after the game.

It doesn’t stop him from constantly looking up whenever he sees a red shirt in his peripheral vision, and it’s all he can do to not sag in relief (or run) when Joshua finally arrives, smile on his face.

Joshua pulls Julian to him, running his hands up and down his back, and for one brief but lucid moment, Julian wonders if it’s too much intimacy for such a public setting.

But for all his professionalism, for all he knows they both have a job to do, Julian can’t help but wish that there was a way to step outside of time and have this moment - exchange proper apologies, re-connect and just  _ be _ together; but there are literally dozens of reporters, staff and camera-crew around, so he dips his head into Joshua’s shoulder for the briefest of moments, whispers “good luck, be great” then lets go.

He’d seen Thomas’ warning raised eyebrows when the forward had walked past them as the hug went on and on, and Julian knows they need to concentrate on the game first. They’ll talk later, need to, but for now, they had a Pokal final to play.

Lately, the Bayern-Dortmund games had become high-paced almost chess games between two evenly matched opponents, so Julian knows that the draw is a fair result. Normally, if this were a league game, he’d be quietly satisfied, but since it’s a cup final, the inevitable penalty shoot out just brings back the rolling nervousness and tension from before the match.

The ghosts of New Zealand makes Julian’s skin crawl ever so slightly, and when it’s Joshua’s turn and Roman steps forward to save the weak shot, Julian feels the combined relief of a miss that keeps them in the game, and the heartbreak for his boyfriend. The relief doesn’t last long though, because no other spot-kick is saved or missed, and once again, Dortmund miss out on silverware. Despite it being only his first season with the club, the stream of close calls are becoming crippling, and add that to the stress of the past few months, the dejection hits him so hard he’s numb all over. He goes through the motions of celebrating, still incredibly thankful that the season had been an overall success for him personally but much too emotionally drained to do more than the required. 

By the time the Bayern players have left for their own celebrations it’s incredibly late, and Julian wonders if it’s even worth sending a text, assuming that Joshua wouldn’t have any free time to spare him; but, to his surprise, he gets the response back almost immediately, Joshua agreeing to meet him very quickly.

As Julian steps into an empty room, he wonders if he even has energy for this. They hadn’t really fixed them yet, hadn’t had the chance to really sort out the lingering tension between them, but more than anything now he just wants them to be  _ okay _ again, because he didn’t know how he would survive the international break if he and Joshua weren’t talking still.

Joshua, it seems, feels exactly the same way, because after a very brief moment of staring wordlessly at each other, the Bayern midfielder almost launches himself at Julian, and this time, with no witnesses around to be wary of, Julian clings just as hard, just as fiercely.

“I’m so sorry,” Joshua mumbles into his chest. “I’ve really missed you. Please don’t be angry anymore. I hate when you’re angry at me.”

Julian lets out a confused laugh, because despite the fact that it was Dortmund who had lost, Joshua sounded just as bereft as him. “Shouldn’t I be the one apologising?”

“For what?”

“For not being supportive? For pushing and pushing even when you asked me not to? For being negative?”

“You were being realistic, not negative, and I was in a pissy mood-”

“And I should have listened to you instead of everyone else - you were right about that at least,” Julian cuts in.

They step away from each other, and Julian pulls Joshua towards a bench so that they could sit down; he’s exhausted.

“Can we just both agree that we were both wrong and then apologise and forgive each other?” Julian asks. “I really don’t want to fight with you anymore. I really missed you, too.”

Joshua leans his head back against the wall and takes Julian’s hand in his. “I was going to let you yell at me, then ask for forgiveness and agree to anything you said; but this is better.”

Julian can’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. “Look at us,” he says, relief so evident in his voice, “being all mature after our first big fight.”

“I don’t know if being peevish for two months is being “mature”, Ju,” Joshua says, tipping his head to look up at him, an adoring smile on his face. “But I’ll take it anyway.”

Julian huffs in mock indignation, then takes advantage of the way the Bayern midfielder is positioned to kiss him. It’s meant to be a quick peck on the lips, but Joshua’s free hand latches onto his neck as he tries to pull away so they end up kissing slowly, relearning each other’s taste after so many months of going without.

“You taste like beer,” Julian says when they pull apart, wrinkling his nose.

“Well, yeah, we’ve started the celebrations already,” Joshua laughs.

“Which means you have to go now, right?”

“Yeah,” Joshua sighs, slowly standing up. “I’m sorry, I wish I could stay but…”

“It’s fine,” Julian smiles, because after what seemed like forever, it really is. “Go. Just call me when you get back home, okay?”

“Of course!” Joshua says, smiling as well. “And we’ll do something before France, yeah?”

Julian’s eyes widen at the reminder of the Euros. “France!” he breathes, smile turning into a grin, laughing when Joshua comes back for a final kiss before slipping quietly out of the room.

He waits another minutes, enjoying the relief and happiness that they were good again - not totally fixed yet, but Julian knows it’s only a matter of days before things go back to being excellent again.

And then,  _ France _ .


	5. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some down time before Ascona.

One of the best things about Munich, Julian thinks, is that it is a city made for the semi-famous. Big and touristy, it was easy to get lost in the laneways and streets of the city, and Julian couldn’t be more thankful. He’s intimate with the layout of the city from his time playing with 1860 and knows the backstreets that would take him to the corner of the _Englisher Garten_ that Joshua wanted to meet in, so he’s taking his time strolling through, enjoying the sunshine and the background buzz of people chatting and laughing.

He spots Joshua sitting underneath a tree, wearing a snapback and eating out of a plastic bag. He looks so young and almost child-like that Julian can’t help but laugh out loud; this gets the attention of the Munich midfielder whose eyes brighten when he approaches.

“What’s that?” Julian asks, pointing at the bag and taking a seat.

“Strawberries,” Joshua says, offering him some.

Julian nibbles on a couple before asking, “you waited long?”

“About 10 minutes; what took you? Did you get lost?”

“Course not, I grew up here, remember?” Julian says, rolling his eyes. “I know Munich better than you.”

Joshua grins. “So you got held up by people asking for autographs?”

Julian rolls his eyes again. “I play for BVB and my last team was 1860, I’m not exactly famous, Jo.”

Joshua just laughs lightly, and they finish off the strawberries in companionable silence.

“Did you end up going home to visit your family?” Julian asks when they are done, sitting back against the tree so that their shoulders are touching.

“Nah, not enough time before we have to meet with the national team, but I had dinner with my sister last night; and we still have lunch with her tomorrow.”

“Sure,” Julian agrees, trying to hide his nervousness with a nonchalant (he hopes) response. “That should give us time to drive to my parents’ place for dinner. You’re still coming, right?”

“Of course,” Joshua replies. “Why wouldn't I?”

“I don't know,”  Julian teases, “maybe you're nervous?”

“Only a little bit,” Joshua admits, “but I bet you're nervous for lunch with Deb as well.”

Julian giggles. “Only a little bit,” he admits, and they both start laughing because despite them being an actual couple for a few years now, their busy schedules meant that coming to respective family events was still rare enough to be new and nerve-wracking.

They spend the next hour or so just catching up on everything that happened after the Pokal and as happy as Julian was for Joshua to win (only Joshua, _not_ his team) he admits that he's still a little bit sad at losing. But it's not something but they want to dwell on for much longer, because they're going to Italy soon, and the excitement of playing for the national team is already kicking in.

“I'm so excited!”  Julian says. “It's going to be so good meeting the other players. I mean I know I play with Mats and Marco, but can you imagine? Toni Kroos and Bastian and Manu!”

“Yeah I know what you mean,” Joshua agrees. “Even though I play  with  Manu and Mario and Thomas, it's still pretty exciting to be able to play with the others. I mean, Basti and Toni left before I joined Bayern, so I can’t wait to meet them!”

“Erik and them say that it’s like one big summer camp - everyone gets along really well.”

“With Thomas in the team? Yeah, I can imagine!”

“And Lukas Podolski, too! Isn’t he like one of the funnest players?”

“Apparently,” Joshua says, and the more they talk about it, the more in awe Julian’s becoming about the fact that he’ll soon be on the same team as most of the world champions.

“It’s good I know some of the BVB boys, because it might get a bit intimidating not knowing anyone else,” Julian says.

“We know more people than you think - what about the U21 boys? Like Julian Brandt and Leroy?” Joshua points out

“Oh yeah!” Julian says, eyes lighting up. “I forgot about that!”

“Forgetting things already? No wonder you got called up to the _senior_ team!”

Julian stares at Joshua for a moment, then bursts out laughing. “Oh my _god_ , Jo, that was _awful!_ ”

“Hey, you laughed!” Joshua points out, also laughing.

“Only because that was the worst dad joke ever!”

“I forgot to ask you,” Joshua says almost excitedly, remembering. “Did you never notice? When we played each other? How Mario kept coming to your change rooms?”

“Um, yeah? I mean, he was a Dortmund player - he obviously still has friends in our team.”

Joshua huffs at him almost impatiently. “But you heard the rumours, right? That there’s a specific reason-slash- _person_ why he’s so attached to Dortmund still?”

Julian’s not really sure where this is going. “Are we really gossiping right now?” he asks, amused.

“So you _do_ know what I’m talking about!” Joshua says triumphantly.

“It’s a rumour?”

“That I’m pretty sure is 90% true.”

“They both have girlfriends,” Julian points out.

“So?”

“Are we talking about relationships?”

Joshua gives him a confused look. “No.”

Julian blinks. “Right. Okay, I get it. Still, it seems a bit... weird? That they’re kinda a little bit obvious?”

Joshua shrugs. “I think it’s cool. And sweet.”

“I guess so,” Julian agrees, “but don’t they worry about what the media are saying?”

“The media talk shit a lot anyway, and most of the time they’re just speculating. It’s not like one of them is ever gonna come out and say _‘Oh yeah, this guy? Yes it’s true he means more to me than just best friend and teammate’_.”

“True. But dangerous, still, right? Because it’s still okay when it’s just people guessing, but if it came out as true… well… the media and fans aren’t gonna be so forgiving if they get outed.”

“No-one’s gonna out them,” Joshua says firmly. “I don’t know what it’s like at Dortmund, but in Bayern, Fips has a really tight “no-gossip” policy and you know how we are when it comes to keeping everything at the club all secret. And well, if all the other rumours about the senior team are _true_ , they’re not the only ones who might be keeping secrets.”

“ _Jesus_ ,” Julian laughs, “where did you get so much info?”

“Under-21s,” Joshua shrugs. “A lot of us go back and forth to plug the gaps, remember? And some of the stories… And well, I play for _Bayern_ \- if you’re German, you’re probably playing for the senior team, so I have a lot sources.”

“Geez,” Julian laughs again.

“Don’t you think it’s good, though? For us?” Joshua asks, tentatively. “Won’t it be nice that in certain cases, we don’t have to try so hard to hide?”

“I never really thought about it,” Julian admits, hesitantly. He knows football, knew what he would be giving up once he and Joshua got serious, knew what the expectations and sacrifices were going to be, and he’s finding it difficult and uncomfortable even thinking about letting his guard down.

Joshua must pick up on this, because he adds almost immediately, “I’m not saying we have to do anything like come out, but at least… oh, never mind. Just ignore me. Do you want to get Italian for dinner? There’s this place that Mario and Mülli recommended that I want to try out. ”

Julian’s not really sure how to process Joshua’s abrupt change in topic, but he’s not ready yet to keep going with the line of conversation so he’s almost guiltily grateful to talk about something else. “Pasta? Yeah, sure. Do we need to make a reservation?”

“I think so; let’s see what time they open,” Joshua says, reaching for his phone, keen on enjoying the rest of the day without anymore awkward conversations.


	6. Impresssions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ascona.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned into a bit of a meta-chapter and Julian fanboys just a little bit.  
> Basically a view of the unique environment on the national team seen through the eyes of a newbie.

It’s a beautiful day for a ride and he’s got Joshua by his side and everything feels like a fairytale. If fairytales included innocent bystanders encouraging football players to risk injuring themselves and others by trying to sign autographs while they cycled past.

“Do they do that a lot?” Joshua asked Manuel when they get back to the hotel. “It’s awfully dangerous.”

“Sometimes,” Manuel smiled. “But we’re not really expected to stop, so don’t feel so bad.”

Julian really liked Manuel. Like all the younger players, he’d been a little bit star-struck in the first few days of camp, and it had taken him a while to get used to being on the same team as some of his footballing heroes. Joshua had teased him, of course, but Joshua got to play with the likes of Philipp Lahm and Thomas Müller _every day_ at Bayern, so he was already over the feeling of being around their idols, and really, playing against them for 90 minutes was just not the same as sharing a change room and developing friendships over an extended period of time.

It was pretty easy to figure out how the friendship groups worked in the national team, and Julian was happy to note that even the legends like Bastian Schweinsteiger and Manuel went out of their to make the newer players welcome. Julian also noticed that the younger players tended to stick together at first, and it was only through gentle coaxing by Bastian and Benedikt, the relentless fun of Lukas and Thomas, and the general camaraderie that the players who’d been there more than a few times were keen to have that made Julian brave enough to approach Toni Kroos when the midfielder finally arrived from Spain.

Of all the players on the national team, Toni was the one that Julian was looking forward to learning from the most. He’d tracked Toni’s career since he was at Bayern, loved the midfielder's game intelligence and vision, and was in absolute awe of the way Toni could place the ball _just so_ almost every single time - Julian was pretty sure that there was no-one who was as precise in dead-ball situations as Toni Kroos, and he was hoping he could develop his own personal skills by watching and learning.

What made the whole experience of playing with the national team even more surreal, though, was that he’d discovered pretty quickly that Joshua was _right_.

Julian hadn’t been called to the U21s (or other youth groups, either) as much as Joshua had, so he was a bit unprepared for just how much affection there was between players. At Dortmund, bromances were normal and commonly accepted, but Julian’s beginning to think now that the Germany players defined bromances in their own special way.

Case in point: Marco Reus and Mario Götze.

Julian had been floored when André Schürrle had sat himself down at the table he, Marco and Marc-André ter Stegen were having breakfast in the first week of camp and casually asked “where’s your boy?” Without even naming names, all of them, even, to his own surprise, Julian, had known that André was referring to Mario.

If Julian was stunned at the question, he nearly choked on his scrambled eggs when Marco had replied just as casually, “doing his hair” with an amused eye-roll. André had also rolled his eyes and Marc had snickered, and Julian couldn’t believe how normal it was for them to be having this type of conversation. He’d been at BVB for a year now, had gotten to know the players really well, but even he had to admit that he’d never seen Marco be so naturally comfortable around anyone - not even Mats or Auba - the way he was with Mario.

Joshua had beamed at him when Julian told him about it later that day.

“I told you!” Joshua said, eyes bright, “I bet all the other rumours are true, too!”

Which reminded Julian of just how much the excitement level and cheer had risen when Lukas Podolski had finally joined the team in Ascona. When they’d all arrived to head to Italy, everyone had hugged and slapped backs and laughed without any observable patterns. This time, it was very strange to see everyone simply wait despite how happy you could feel the team was to have Lukas there, holding back from greeting him until the handsome forward had wrapped his arms around Bastian in a bear hug; it was only after he’d greeted the captain that Lukas had turned to everyone else with a big grin and Mario Gómez had surged forward to hug him too.

The friendship between Lukas and Bastian was legendary - heck, anyone who had seen the [in]famous kiss photo after the World Cup win was already aware of how close those two were, but Julian is just as surprised to see that no-one - player _or_ staff (the amount of times Jogi just rolled his eyes at their antics made Julian worry that the senior coach’s eyeballs would get stuck that way) -  so much as raised an eyebrow whenever the two older players acted “especially close”, as Joshua had put it.

There was a certain atmosphere in the senior team that Julian had never experienced before, said to have been fostered over the years until it reached it’s peak in Brazil that allowed them to win the World Cup, and for the first time since he and Joshua started dating, Julian thinks that maybe there was a safe place for them after all.

Not that they were overtly affectionate beyond what was considered “normal” in the national team - they were very careful about that. In fact, Joshua actually spent a lot of his time cycling through his Bayern teammates and Bernd Leno, occasionally doing some activities with the boys they knew through the NT youth teams. Of course, using the “we know each other through U19/U21s” was the perfect excuse to spend time with each other, and they did it as much as they could without drawing attention to themselves.

When they did manage to find some alone time, they were very careful about where and when they meet, choosing empty rooms and the far gardens, occasionally going for “walks” around the hotel. It was incredible, being here with Joshua, their first call up to the senior team, getting called up _together_ , to prepare for a major tournament and not just a friendly; it was a fairy tale dream and Julian never wanted it to end.

The fairy tale continues when they make their international debut at the same time in the game against Slovakia. Okay, so it’s uncomfortable wet on the night and Julian had to wait until the second half where he got subbed in, and in the end, they lose, but it’s still an incredible feeling, one that he felt justified in wanting to celebrate.

He catches Joshua after recovery training the next day, dragging him into an empty room near the work-out equipment that he knows no-one is currently using. As soon as the door closes behind them, Julian cups Joshua’s face in his hand and kisses him, sweet and firm, pouring all of his joy into the moment.

“You’re in a good mood,” Joshua says, when they break apart, slightly breathless.

Julian just laughs, stepping away from the Bayern midfielder to sit against the wall, pulling Joshua down next to him. “It’s been incredible so far, don’t you think?”

“Well, it would have been nice to _win_ ,” Joshua teases, “but yeah it’s been good.”

“I’m honestly not even that upset about it, the past few weeks have been a dream.”

“It’s not like the youth teams, is it?” Joshua agrees, leaning his head against Julian’s shoulder and wrapping an arm loosely around the taller man’s waist. “I mean there’s something different here, isn’t there? So much more like _home_ than I expected it to be.”

Julian places a kiss to Joshua’s temple, drawing him closer still.  “I think you could be right, you know. About not having to hide so much. I feel almost safe here.”

Joshua clutches at him momentarily, then kisses him almost fiercely. “What made you change your mind?”

“I don’t know,” Julian admits, “but it’s there, and for once I just want to be able to enjoy playing football without being so scared about how I act around you all the time.”

Joshua’s grin is all the answer he needs, and Julian gives in to the temptation and they’re kissing again, first hungrily, then slowly, enjoying the moment and the relief in being able to feel almost free.

Which is, of course, when Bernd walks in on them.

They’d been so caught up in each other that they only notice the door opening when Bernd is already halfway in and it’s too late for them to disentangle themselves from each other. The back-up keeper stares from one to the other for a few seconds, then eventually says, “I should be surprised, but for some reason, I’m not.”

Julian doesn’t know whether he should be relieved or alarmed – but probably more the latter because they had been so careful, and yes, Joshua had been spending a lot of time with Bernd, but Julian’s pretty sure the other midfielder hasn’t said anything, and they were really careful not to be obvious (he hopes). “Um…” he says, quite speechless.

“You’re not gonna say anything, are you?” Joshua asks quickly as they scramble to their feet, a mildly panicked look on his face.

There’s a strange look on Bernd’s face while he contemplates them, but Julian is more than relieved when he says, “of course not. It’s none of my business, really.”

“Thanks,” Julian breathes, relieved. He hesitates for a moment before asking, “is everyone alright? You look a bit lost.” He doesn’t know the keeper the way Joshua does, but even he could tell there’s something a bit off with Bernd.

“Everything's fine,” Bernd says, a little surprised but Julian can see the wariness in the response as well, “I just wanted to go for a walk, that’s all.”

All three of them make their way out of the room, and they’re about to separate when Bernd stops and turns back to them.

“I’d be careful if I were you,” he says, serious. “This place isn’t really that big and if you’re not paying attention, someone’s bound to be on top of you before you even know it.”

And almost to prove Bernd’s words right, they can hear voices approaching rapidly and it’s only a matter of a few seconds before Mario and Marc-André come around the corner, stopping in surprise when they see the three of them.

“There you are,” Mario addresses the Leverkusen keeper. “We were looking for you so we could go to dinner.” He then looks between the three of them. “Is everything alright?”

“Of course,” Bernd says again, answering for all of them. “They were just getting advice on something.”

It’s not really a lie and Julian doesn’t feel the need to elaborate.

Mario raises a perfectly groomed eyebrow and looks between them again, Marc still hasn’t said anything and is simply standing there with a strangely expressionless face, Joshua is trying his best to deflect any questions by giving Mario his most innocent look, and Julian is getting alarmed at how nervous he is feeling for some reason.

“Okay then,” Mario finally says, “shall we eat?”

Julian and Joshua nod, and they all make their way to the dining hall together.


	7. Last steps, first steps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only the epilogue to go!

It’s strangely subdued once Marco Reus and the other departing players leave; the friendship groups have gotten tighter, and Joshua finds himself almost clinging to Manuel and Thomas when he’s not with Julian; and normally he’d be spending time with Bernd as well, but the Leverkusen keeper had been a bit withdrawn once his fellow teammates had left and Joshua decided that giving him space was a good idea.

The initial excitement of being chosen for the final 23 hadn’t even worn off yet. Joshua felt like he was walking on clouds half the time, and the other half he felt like someone had hit him over the head with a broom and he’d been walking around absolutely stunned, since.

Thomas thinks it’s awfully cute, and teases him endlessly about it. “Aww, you puppies are so cute!” the gangly forward coos, pinching his cheeks. “But don’t forget, you deserve to be here too, so work hard, okay? You’ll get your chance.”

It’s a good reminder to Joshua that this is a serious tournament that they’re playing for, one which Germany is expected to take home, and that anything can happen so he’s got to be prepared, because within just days of the final team being announced, Antonio Rüdiger gets injured during training and ends up having to go home, replaced by Jonathan Tah.

Joshua feels sorry for Antonio because they’d worked so hard to make it to the France only for him to get ruled out at the last minute, but seeing Jonathan is also great since the last time they played together was during U21s Euro qualifications way back in November.

During the opening game against the Ukraine, they’re a bundle of nerves on the bench, and even though Joshua had already played - and won! - the Euros before in the U19s, it’s a crazy incredible feeling for him being with the senior team and he can’t stop the buzzing under his skin.

The excitement levels become almost unbearable when Shkodran scores the opener and the entire bench jumps up to celebrate. It gets even louder and crazier when Bastian scores the second, and the team captain practically does a lap of honour before jumping on Manuel as it seems everyone on the bench - players and staff - wanted to congratulate him for the goal. When Bastian makes his way to Lukas after hugging the senior coach, Mario and the other players holding back until the two friends have their moment, Joshua nudges Julian and his boyfriend’s answering grin is all the evidence Joshua needs that they’re thinking the same thing.

Surprisingly, they get quite a lot of free time to just enjoy themselves considering there’s a game every four days once the tournament starts, but Joshua finds himself incredibly busy the whole time.

He and Julian spend as much time as possible training together, and the fact that they all have their own rooms at the hotel means that when they get desperate, they can sneak into each other’s rooms for some quality time; which is something they don’t do often, really, and when they do, it’s very quick, both of them mindful of Bernd’s warning despite the fact that they don’t have roommates anymore.

The game against Poland is a tactical match finishing in a 0-0 draw, and Joshua is content to sit on the bench for the rest of the tournament, train and prepare  _ just in case _ , so he’s more than just a little surprised when he starts for the last group stage game and every other game after that.

He and Julian celebrate the win against Northern Ireland and Joshua’s competitive debut once they get back to the hotel, Julian sneaking back into his rooms just after midnight. 

Training days takes on new meaning for him after that because he has rejuvenation days rather than training on the days after the matches, and he thinks that maybe they’ll live up to all the expectations and take home the damn trophy in Paris, and with every win, Joshua dares to dream just a little bit more.

By the time they are lining up for the quarter finals against Italy, there’s an almost nervous energy in the team - with the possible exception of Toni, and seriously, how is that guy always that calm?! - all of them knowing how historic this game is, coming up against their long-time nemesis, and the dramatic historical rivalry takes on new levels when after extra time, they all line up for penalties.

Joshua did not have fond memories of penalties; despite winning the Pokal finals with Bayern, he’d been the sole saved spot kick in that game and he did  _ not _ want that to happen again. When Thomas’ penalty is saved, quickly followed by Mesut missing his, the tension amongst his teammates as they stand there with arms around each other is so thick that Joshua can feel it rolling in his stomach.

Goal from Julian. Miss by Bastian. Goal from Mats. When Joshua steps up for his kick, his mind runs through everything the coaches told them, the little bit of advice from Manuel, and he choses his spot: low left corner; when the ball goes in, he lets out a scream and indulges in a fist pump.

Everything speeds up after that. Two more goals, then Manuel saves and finally it’s Jonas. When the ball goes in, it’s like someone turned up the volume suddenly and the bench runs onto the pitch to surround Manuel (because  _ two! saves! _ ) and they’re all celebrating like it’s a finals win because  _ finally! _

It’s the permeating emotion that carries when they head back to hotel: utter relief. Surviving a penalty shoot-out, making it through to the semi-finals and finally  _ finally _ beating Italy in a competitive match after so long. They’re all exhausted the next day, physically and emotionally, and Jogi and the team try their best to calm them down, but it’s difficult because now they can practically feel the trophy in their hands.

“We’re not there yet,” Jogi warns them in his usual level-headed way. “That was one win; we still have two more to go so celebrate the win, but the prize isn’t ours yet.”

“We’re going to win, aren’t we?” Julian asks when Joshua sneaks into his room the night before they leave Evian for the last time.

“I don’t know,” Joshua says, “but it feels like it, doesn’t it?”

Julian just grins at him, drops his head onto Joshua’s shoulder. “I can almost feel it in my skin; I don’t think I’ve ever felt so sure of winning anything in my life.”

Joshua giggles, allowing himself this little bit of private dreaming with Julian. “So what are we going to do after Paris? You’re still coming with me to my parents’ right?”

“Your mom reminded me after the Slovakia game,” Julian says, “so not like I can back out now.”

“Not unless you want her to yell at you,” Joshua laughs. “Family time is sacred you know, and you’re part of the family now apparently.”

Julian doesn’t respond to that, just turns his head and places a kiss to the juncture in Joshua’s neck. “So everyone is going to the States for some reason,” he says. “Wanna go too?”

“Miami or L.A.?”

“I was thinking Chicago?”

“You don’t want to meet up with the other boys?”

“I don’t know, do you?”

“We’ll see. Maybe we can decide when we get back from Paris? They might end up all changing their minds afterwards, I don’t want to make plans around the others if we can help it.”

“Sounds good.”

They sit in comfortable but still excited silence for a few minutes, when Julian asks softly, “wanna stay the night?”

Joshua stands up, pulling Julian up with him onto the double bed. “I thought you’d never ask.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **some Julian and Joshua EUROs moments:**
> 
> cycling through Ascona
> 
> Julian comforting Joshua after the loss to France
> 
> as walking/running green highlighters
> 
> first press conference together
> 
> after Bastian's goal
> 
> Julian explaining... something...
> 
> down-time with the boys


	8. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was seriously only meant to be a 2-part 3K word introduction to Julian and Joshua’s respective histories before they joined BVB and Bayern. What actually happened was that the storyline just kept evolving, and somehow themes (conflicts, resolutions, dreams, desire) just kept birthing themselves and the story just kept getting longer.
> 
> Anyway. I decided that here is the best place to stop the current storyline as it’s meant to be an introduction, and well, they got a lot more exposure during the Euros :) so no need to keep going; so thanks for sticking this out with me, for all the encouraging comments (because reader interaction is _life_ for writers) and hopefully you’ve come to love them a little bit more now. These two will be the future core of German football, and as fans of _Die Mannschaft,_ we are living in exciting times.
> 
> Much love xoxo

They drive up to Bösingen with Deborah, leaving Munich early in order to arrive to their parents’ house in time for a late breakfast. They’re met in the driveway, and Joshua smiles when his mom takes Julian into her arms with just as much strength as she does to her own children.

“You made good time,” Anja says, ushering them all into the kitchen where food is set out for them.

“Deb _speeds_ ,” Joshua says, laughing when he earns a smack from his sister.

“I was just over the limit,” Deborah retorts, “I didn’t want to scare Julian the first time he jumped in the car with me.”

“Well your timing’s perfect actually,” Berthold says, bringing a pot over to the table. “We’ve only just finished cooking.”

“Looks good, Dad,” Joshua practically drools.

Anja smacks him on the back of the hand with a spoon. “Guests first,” she says, ladling eggs and more food into Julian’s plate.

“Ju’s not a guest anymore!” Joshua pouts. “He’s always here now.”

“Not always,” Julian disagrees, almost hugging his plate to himself.

Joshua pouts some more, but dutifully waits the whole five seconds until after Julian has enough food on his plate and has a glass each of juice and water, before serving himself.

As usual, lunch is enjoyable. He was one of those lucky kids who grew up loving everything about his entire family, and he’s so incredibly happy that he got to share this with Julian now as well. Since his parents were with them at the Euros, there really isn’t much to catch up on, the loss to France still incredibly raw despite all the positive feelings that came out of the tournament. 

Losing had been devastating, not least because they knew that on any other day, they should have won. They had been the better team, and Joshua didn’t just think that out of spite or hurt; but they had known - both at the time and looking back after the fact - that tactically Germany had been better on the night, but some ill-timed bad-luck and France making the most of the rare chances offered meant that they were the ones going home that night. 

It had hit Joshua so much harder than the champions league loss last month, or even the loss with the U21s this time last year, and stumbling along the pitch, seeing Mesut, Thomas and their other teammates in tears had been heart breaking, and Joshua had let Julian wrap his arms around him and cradle him close as he tried to hold back the tears. The bus trip back had been silent, laden down with sorrow, and even as the management had congratulated them, tried to make them see the victories despite exiting the tournament, it had sounded hollow to Joshua, and he’d carried the defeat with them all the way back to Germany. Being here now at his parents’ was not only rejuvenation time, but healing time as well. 

So they rest, linger over coffees and sweets, and after a short nap, he and Julian go for a walk.

“We broke my mom’s window so many times that she banned us from playing in the backyard,” Joshua laughs, remembering. “So we moved there until the developers came in,” and he points to a house across the road. “I almost cried the day they started building; it was our place for so long I actually forgot that it was private property.”

“But you got to play somewhere else, right? I remember you mentioned it once.”

“Yeah, it’s actually near Opa’s place, we should walk there; we can get a lift back with the rest of them later.”

Joshua’s parents think it’s a good idea. “Call Opa first to let him know you’re coming over, Jo,” his mom says. “Just in case they’re out.”

It’s almost eerily quiet for an early summer’s afternoon, but Joshua can’t complain because the less people out on the street, the less chance there would be of him being recognised; in a small village of about 1,700 people nearly everyone knew each other, and well, Joshua knows he’s one of Bösingen’s more famous sons, so he’s unusually glad that no-one’s come up to him for an autograph.

Taking a quick look around, Joshua reaches out and takes Julian’s in his, stepping close enough so that you’d have to be really looking to notice their clasped hands.

Julian gives him a startled look, but doesn’t let go, lips curling into a smile. They walk in silence for a while, until they get to their destination.

“We made the clubhouse there,” Joshua says wistfully. “Back then it was just grass and we’d play all day - _literally_ all day, because in the summer we’d sleep there too - and whenever someone had to look for us, they’d always go there first.”

“That must have been amazing,” Julian smiles, a whimsical expression on his face.

“We even built our own stands. One of the dads had left over dirt and wood planks and we carried them all over and made stands so we had spectators for our tournaments.”

“Wow,” Julian laughs, “you guys really took it seriously, didn’t you?”

“I miss it sometimes,” Joshua admits, “how simple everything was; just playing and making up rules as we went along, pretending I was Zidane, or Rosicki, or even _Basti_.”

“And now you’ve gotten to play with one of your idols.”

“I’ve always dreamed of playing professionally, playing for Germany, but sometimes, sometimes dreams don’t even come close to reality.”

“Which is why it’s good to come back here, to remind ourselves of where we came from, and why there’s still a lot to learn and experience.”

They stand there in silence, neither knowing how long, both lost in their thoughts, both thankful for the opportunities they’d had so far, both looking forward to the best that’s yet to come.

After a while Joshua tugs lightly on Julian’s hand and slowly leads Julian to his grandfather’s house, where dinner and companionship and more memories to be shared are waiting for them. It’s a time of recharging over the emotional first season and long summer tournament, and there’s nowhere Joshua would rather be than in the sleepy town of Bösingen with his family and Julian at his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Joshua did an interview with the [Players Tribune](http://www.theplayerstribune.com/joshua-kimmich-bayern-munich/) in which he described growing up playing football in his hometime - I've borrowed quite a lot of that article in this epilogue.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a [tumblr account ](https://khalehla.tumblr.com) for my writings and random ficlets. If you have a question about this or any of my other stories, come say hi :)
> 
>  
> 
> \--  
> Disclaimer: I write **fiction** about real people. As far as I know, none of these events ever happened; any resemblance to any actual events are purely coincidental.  
>  \--


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